


Work of Art

by callamint



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Fluffy Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-14
Updated: 2016-12-14
Packaged: 2018-09-08 13:08:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8846302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/callamint/pseuds/callamint
Summary: The reader accidentally leaves a doodle tucked into the couch. The next day, she finds someone else has continued it….





	1. Chapter 1

You reclined on the couch, doodling absentmindedly on the first page of a crisp new notebook. You looked down to see an angry caricature of Tony, standing on a desk with a giant head bellowing at the rest of the team. Chuckling to yourself, you continued to add details, making his eyebrows bushier and giving him fangs.

Drawing was how you de-stressed from the day. You often did it when you were up late at night, and had to get things off your mind. Drawing your life was one of your secret refuges. You loved your team. You really did. But sometimes even the best of them got on your nerves.You startled and shoved your notebook between the couch cushions when you heard a noise and the light to the lounge turned on.

“Y/N?” The light turned on and you sat with your mouth open for a second, staring at Bucky.

“Oh hey,” you smiled at him.

“Couldn’t sleep?” He asked, tense but forcing himself to relax.

“Nope.” You got up, joining him as he made two mugs of hot chocolate, one for each of you.

“I know Tony was a bit harsh on you today. He’s just afraid to see you hurt.”

“Over it,” you shrugged, not wanting to talk more about it. “Tell me about your day instead,” you insisted, leaning on your hands and fluttering your eyelashes and overexaggerating your attentiveness.

Bucky rolled his eyes. “Same old, same old. Steve’s got his panties in a bunch worrying about me. I’m up because of nightmares. How about we watch a movie since neither of us can sleep?”

You nodded, slurping your hot chocolate before jumping over the side of the couch and making yourself comfortable. Bucky had to push you aside to make room for himself, as you flipped through the digital library, bickering with him over what to watch.

You woke the next morning to the blare of your alarm. Shooting up in bed, you knocked your phone off your bedside table. Scowling, you fumbled to pick it up and turned off the alarm, rubbing your eyes.

Bucky must have brought you back to your room after you fell asleep last night. You hurried to get ready, but remembered today was Saturday and that you didn’t have a mission. Sighing, you plopped back into bed and fell back asleep, waking up way past noon.

After brushing your teeth and eating breakfast, you went back to your room, taking a notebook out of your drawer, pencil tucked behind your ear. You were halfway through the drawing when you flipped back to the previous page, finding it blank.

If this wasn’t the new notebook you had started yesterday with the drawing of Tony… oh god.

You dashed back into the lounge area, relieved to find it empty and your notebook still stashed in the couch cushions. You flipped through it, satisfied that it had been untouched…

Except…

Someone had. On the second page, there was another drawing. You didn’t recognize the style. It was a rough sketch of the kitchen. Nat and Bucky sat on the kitchen stools, mid laugh as they ate their breakfast.


	2. Chapter 2

You gaped at the picture. But, seeing that no one had barged into your room this morning to confront you about the notebook, it was safe to say that no one suspected it was yours. You brought it back to your room, ever curious about the mystery artist, but too afraid to ask anyone about it. You forgot about it for the rest of the week, caught up in work and the stress that came along with it.

Secretary Ross had come down pretty hard on everyone this week. Tony had warned you, tried to get the team to be more careful on missions. But during the most recent one Hydra had targeted Bucky. And Steve, the self-sacrificing friend he always was, had barely gotten everyone out unscathed. The result had been successful, Steve had argued, but Ross still wanted him suspended for at least a month as punishment, and Bucky permanently for being an conflict of interest.

“If you can’t keep a level head and keep your emotions in check instead of COMPROMISING AN ENTIRE MISSION FOR ONE PERSON, maybe we should keep you in check.” Ross seethed. “That goes for all of you.”

As Secretary Ross screamed at your team, and Steve argued back, you decided you couldn’t take it anymore. There were too many emotions bubbling up, and it was getting more difficult to keep your own in check. You bolted out of the debriefing room. Not that anyone had noticed- their attention was on the conflict at hand.

You were working on sketch of Secretary Ross, with his head about to explode and hovering a few feet off the ground from the sheer force of his bellows, when you heard a knock at your door. You tucked your notebook into your drawer, before opening the door.

“Hey.” It was Steve, who was rubbing his neck as he greeted you. “You ran out of the meeting today, so I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“Yeah… although I feel like I should be the one asking you,” you chuckled.

The two of you stood there awkwardly for a moment. You found yourself distracted by the deepness of his eyes, but quickly snapped your gaze to your feet when you realized you had been staring.

“So uh- Buck and I were gonna order some pizzas if you wanted to join.”

You followed him down to the living room, feeling the burn in your cheeks lessen as you fell into your usual banter now that Bucky was in the room too to diffuse the tension.

Fifteen pizzas and many hours later- mainly eaten by the two supersoldiers, Bucky was snoring on the floor, metal arm draped over you as you fought off sleep.

“You’re so good with him,” Steve whispered, causing your eyelids to flutter open. You smiled at him, as he gazed at you.

Realizing you were trapped, you whined, until Steve lifted Bucky’s arm off of you to let you crawl out.

“Thanks for saving me from the clutches of the oh-so-dangerous Winter Soldier,” you joked, but saw Steve tense.

“I’m sorry,” you blurted out, realizing you had hit a sore spot.

“S’okay. I’ll take care of him. You must be exhausted,” Steve relaxed, quickly changing the subject, but you still felt guilty as you bid him goodnight and returned to your room.

 

Alone at last, you found yourself continuing your drawing of Secretary Ross. You had added much more detail to his face- making sure to emphasize every mole and imperfection, also drawing in the rest of the team, with Steve front and center. He had his shield up in a protective stance, shielding the rest of you from the spittle flying out of Ross’s mouth.

The next morning, you found yourself tucking the sheet between the couch cushions when you were alone, wondering if the mystery artist would look in the same spot again.

A few days later you got a response- this time in color.

On the paper stood Steve, looking dejected and worn thin, struggling with the burden of his shield on his shoulders in the same pose as Atlas.


	3. Chapter 3

As the weeks went by you continued drawing for your mystery artist. You received more drawings, some more of Nat and Sam eating breakfast. You shot back with a scene of Tony, exhausted during a late night at his lab. You got back a picture of you and Bucky watching TV. You drew a picture of Steve, laughing at something Bucky had said, and received a disgustingly cute picture of Tony and Pepper holding hands during a party that week in return.

You snuck into the lounge in the middle of the night, going to slip another drawing between the couch cushions for your penpal, but instead found Steve still awake, a look of concentration on his face as he was working.

You studied him, taking in how relaxed he looked. His brow was furrowed, and a bead of sweat was building on his brow. His hand moved slowly and carefully, the scritch of the pencil against the paper the only sound in the room -aside from your heart, which you could feel getting louder.

“I didn’t know you draw,” you said, after realizing you had spent way too long staring at him.

Steve was so engrossed in his work that he froze at first when you broke the silence. He smiled when he saw you.

“I used to draw all the time… back before the war. I guess I never really stopped.”

He patted the seat next to him, and you accepted his invitation, plopping down on the other side of the sofa and resting your feet in his lap.

“May I?” You asked, extending your hand.

He hesitated, before giving you the notebook. When you opened it, a few drawings fell out. Holding one up, you recognized it to be your own- the one you had slipped in the couch. So were the other loose pages that had fallen.

You felt your heart begin to race, but you didn’t react at first as you forced your gaze to stay on the notebook. The next page contained a picture of you- from the night you had been curled up next to Bucky.

The next page was you alone, mid-laugh with tears coming out of your eyes. That was earlier this week, when you, Bucky, and Sam had gotten into a prank war with each other.

There were other drawings, of the team, of Steve himself. All of the ones with him he stood alone, always with the same heaviness to his expression. But you couldn’t help but notice how many there were of you. And how detailed those were. And how forgiving he had been on your features. He had emphasized the softness of your hair, and the scrunch of your nose, rather than the frizz and tired bags under your eyes. You looked up to find Steve, whose blue eyes looked incredibly soft as he waited expectantly.

You sat up. Hand shaking, you took out the drawing you had brought with you out of your pocket. You handed it to Steve, feeling more vulnerable than you ever had in your entire life as he unfolded it.

The paper was Steve’s original drawing- the one of him bearing the weight of the giant shield all on his back… with a few alterations. You had drawn in the rest of the team alongside him, each person helping him bear the weight of the shield.

He studied the picture for what seemed like an eternity. When he finished, his eyes were watering.

“I didn’t know you draw,” he said, at last, echoing your earlier words.

“It’s not the only thing I can do,” you breathed, grabbing his shirt and closing the distance between you as your lips finally met.


End file.
